


i will rearrange the stars and pull them down to where you are

by actualbluesargent



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, coffee shop AU, it didn't start that way but it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualbluesargent/pseuds/actualbluesargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on the prompt "I know I keep coming to the cookie shop and for some reason it’s always your shift but don’t you dare judge me I need these for my sanity" but quickly became a coffee shop au where Monty has a serious addiction to cookies and an attraction to Miller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will rearrange the stars and pull them down to where you are

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my beta Hannah (sassymurph on tumblr/hanic on ao3) for helping me on this!

There are some events in your life that seem small, but once they happen, they change your life forever. The most important day of your life isn’t the most important day of your life at the time, it’s just another day. It’s not until later, when you look back, on everything you’ve done, the choices you made, that you see the day everything changed.

For Monty Green, that day was October 23rd, 2014.

-

It was a regular Thursday for him. Which meant sitting in his dorm room, going out of his mind as he stared at pages and pages of theory for Mechanical Engineering. Crap he already knew but didn’t know how to say. His hand was shaking, and he had never drummed his pen against his desk so quickly in his entire life. He needed to get out.

He paid no mind to the fact it was pouring rain outside, or that he burned all his jackets when he was trying to help Jasper with his experiments, or that he had no idea where he was going. He just had to get his head out of Mechanical Engineering for ten minutes.

He was out of the college campus in no time. He wasn’t exactly well-known here, but when people see a skinny kid walking fast with their head down, they’re going to get out of their way. The second he stepped outside the college grounds he felt relief flood through him. But he kept walking.

That was how he barreled into Bellamy Blake. He knew Bellamy pretty well. He was Octavia’s older brother and a constant feature during Monty’s high school years. Whenever Octavia was trying to convince him to sneak out, Bellamy was over her shoulder warning her about the consequences. Jasper always joked about wanting to be Bellamy Blake when he grew up, but Monty didn't think he was joking.

“Whoa, whoa!” Bellamy laughed when Monty nearly knocked him over. “Where are you going so fast?”

Monty took a moment to confess that he wasn’t sure. “I’ve just been stressed, and - ” he clenched his hands into fists.

“Say no more. I have to visit a friend of mine in a café near here, how about you come with me for a bit?” Bellamy didn’t even wait for a response before he headed in the direction Monty was going. Monty hadn’t even made a conscious decision to follow him when his feet started moving.

Monty had learned through the years that Bellamy wasn’t a big talker. He was more the kind to make one joke, and then only contribute to the conversation with smirks and laughs. He tried to keep the walk filled with conversation. He talked about Octavia, Mechanical Engineering, his roommate, and his professors. Bellamy responded just how Monty expected him to, with comfortable silence.

When they arrived at their destination, Monty almost walked past it. It was a narrow red door, lodged between a Starbucks and a Barnes & Noble. Bellamy grabbed his collar to stop him. Embossed on the red door, in bold, newspaper-like print, read the words ‘ _Skybox Café_ ’. Catching the confusion on Monty’s face, Bellamy gave him a lazy smile and pushed the door open. Inside was a narrow hallway, decorated with various posters for obscure movies. He let Bellamy lead the way.

At the end of the hallway was an archway. Once they stepped through, Monty was met with a strong scent of coffee that nearly bowled him over. It was a small place. Bookshelves lined the walls, and mismatched tables were scattered around the café. There was even a booth made of a rickshaw. The menu board was a blackboard, and looked like it had been scrawled on not five minutes ago. A sign hung just beside the menu that read: ‘ _Days since Miller has broken a mug: zero_ ’. Below that hung another sign that read: ‘ _Days since Raven has offended a customer: ~~two~~ zero_ ’. He just stood there, staring at the café, taking it all in.

Bellamy wasted no time sauntering up the counter. Monty didn’t hear what he ordered, but he knew there were two of them. He finally snapped out of things and found a seat at a table that was covered in coffee stains. He watched as Bellamy flirted shamelessly with the barista. He leaned over the counter, laughing and joking, saying things to the blonde girl behind the counter like, “Sure you don’t, Princess.”

It wasn’t too long a wait before Bellamy joined him with a tray of two coffees in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. When Monty started digging around in his (clearly empty) pockets, Bellamy dismissed it with a wave.

“My treat,” he smiled. Monty appreciated it, because since he had to quit his job at the library, he was dirt broke.

They sat across from each other for a while before Bellamy finally indulged him in conversation. When he was feeling talkative, Bellamy had the best stories and Monty just loved hearing them. Like that time he snuck into one of Octavia’s school trips masquerading as a chaperone just to make sure she wasn’t misbehaving. Or when he accidentally shot his high school principal with a paintball gun. And then there were the historical stories. Bellamy was a History major, and was always willing to talk about it. For Monty, it just meant Bellamy was talking.

About halfway through a story about the Emperor Augustus, Bellamy had to leave to use the bathroom. Monty was sipping away at his second coffee (which was so highly caffeinated he could swear he could hear his blood pumping through his veins) when an employee approached him with a second plate of cookies. The man was wearing an apron that said ‘ _grinding beans isn’t the only grinding i do_ '. At first, Monty only had eyes for the plate of cookies, but then he looked properly at the guy carrying them.

Oh no. He was gorgeous. He had warm brown skin, and under his apron was a green t-shirt that was definitely too tight for Monty’s own good. He had broad shoulders and dark, brown eyes that Monty really would just have loved to stare into all day. He wore an expression that dared anyone and everyone to mess with him. He had a grey beanie pulled over his head, and was a poster-boy for dumpster-chic.

“We haven’t paid for those,” Monty said when he set the plate down.

“You’re here with Bellamy?” the aproned Adonis said. His voice was low and gruff.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Monty managed to say.

“Then these are free.” He grumbled, before walking back towards the counter and through a door. Monty wished he had the willpower not to watch his ass as he walked away.

When Bellamy returned, Monty kept looking at the door at the back of the café, hoping for the grumbly barista to return. He didn’t.

-

After a day or two, Monty forgot about the beautiful barista. What with school, trying to find another job, and tutoring Jasper, he just didn't have time to think about grumpy, handsome guys who give you free cookies. Even if they did have jaw lines that could grate cheese.

What Monty couldn’t stop thinking about though, were the cookies. Growing up, whenever he was stressed, or tired, a chocolate chip cookie always helped him calm down. He thought they had lost that effect, but now, he had a craving unlike any other while he tried (and failed) to write an essay.

Which was how he ended back in Skybox Café with a backpack full of books and notes. There’s a tall someone behind the counter when he gets there, but he’s too blinded by cookie-lust to take notice. It’s only when a pair of callused hands pass him a plate of cookies and a coffee does Monty take note of who it is. And shit, it’s the hot guy from the last time.

Today he was wearing an honest-to-god wife-beater. Usually Monty despised them, but he wasn’t going to complain about the show of biceps. The apron he’s wearing read ‘ _just tryin’ to espresso my opinion_ ’ and Monty would be going against his nature if he didn’t find it a little funny. He tried to say something funny, or clever, or nice. Or anything at all.

He wanted to say “You’re really hot,” but it sounded a lot more like “Thanks.”

He carried his stuff over to the same table he and Bellamy had sat at earlier. He heard a door shut, and with it, the tall, dark and grumbly barista disappeared from sight. Sighing, Monty resigned himself to actually doing some work instead of swooning over the guy.

The café was pretty quiet. The only other customers were two guys a little older than Monty, who seemed to be arguing over the best way to make a knife in prison. Luckily, Monty had brought headphones and was able to block them out pretty easily. And the cookies seemed to be working wonders for his concentration. He no longer felt his mind wandering; he was focused on the task at hand. It was a miracle.

Of course, he was still prone to mid-equation wanders. Every ten minutes or so, his eyes flicked back over to the counter, checking if the hot barista was there. He wasn’t. Monty did notice that the blackboard signs next to the menu had been updated. The signs now read: ‘ _Days since Miller has broken a mug: three. A record!_ ’ And under that: ‘ _I will personally shank you Reyes_ ’. The one below that had been updated as well: ‘ _Days since Raven has offended a customer: five_ ’. Someone had written in pink chalk below that: ‘ _Only cause Finn hasn’t shown up_ ’ and below that, in purple: ‘ _Damn you, Blake_ ’. Another sign had also been added: ‘ _Clarke is not permitted to lecture customers on their coffee choices, no matter how ‘pussy’ they may be’_. They brought a smile to Monty’s face. There was obviously a friendly atmosphere among the staff, and it brought a touch of personality to the place.

The door behind the café swung open, and against Monty’s will, he looked. It wasn't his barista, but a girl who looked a bit older than Monty. She was smiling wide for seemingly no reason at all. Monty watched out of the corner of his eye as she read the chalkboard signs, and scribbled something on one of them that Monty couldn't quite read. She disappeared into the back again, and neither she or Monty’s barista (he couldn’t believe he was actually referring to him as his barista) appeared for the rest of the afternoon.

He would just have to come back.

-

It was another few days before he returned to the Skybox Cafe. In all honesty, the minute he left, he was itching to go back, but unfortunately, life, as it tends to do, got in the way.

He was in his dorm room, staring at a book and trying to learn its contents without actually having to read them, when Jasper barged through his door.

"I can't take it any more!" the lanky boy declared, draping himself dramatically across Monty's bed. "I need to go somewhere. Anywhere, or I swear to god I’ll go out of my mind. How about we visit Harper? I miss Harper,"

Harper was in college a few towns over. Monty was about to refuse, to dismiss this as one of Jasper’s whims; when he stopped himself. It was a Friday. Why the hell shouldn't they visit Harper?

"You're driving," Monty decided, jumping up from his seat with a wild smile on his face.

"Hell yeah!" Jasper shouted. "Let's go!" He leapt from Monty's bed, a man with a mission.

"Wait!" Monty said, just as Jasper was halfway out the door. "Should we bring a present? I feel like we should bring her something,"

Before Jasper could speak, he grinned. "I have an idea."

-

Which was how they ended up in Skybox Café. Jasper was going to wait outside, but when he saw Monty push open a door that most people would just walk past, he had to investigate.

"How did you find this place?" he asked, following Monty through the narrow hallway leading into the café.

With a smirk, he said, "A magician never tells his secrets.” Jasper rolled his eyes at him, but didn’t prod further. “You should probably call Harper,” Monty added.

As Jasper pulled his phone out and dialed Harper’s number, Monty turned to the counter. And wow, wasn't it his lucky day, because there behind the counter was a scruffy barista with a beanie pulled over his head. Today his apron read ‘ _i’ll talk to you latte_ ’ and it was so cheesy, Monty almost felt sorry for the guy.

“Harper!” Jasper exclaimed from behind Monty, just as the barista looked up at him. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes, and Monty prayed he wasn’t blushing.

“Can I help you?” the barista grumbled. Monty took a second to collect himself before speaking, and put nearly all his energy into trying not to stare at the barista. He pointed to a plate of a couple of cookies next to the till.

"How many of those cookies do you have?" Monty asked, over Jasper's nattering.

With a questioning look in his eye, the barista produced a plate from under the counter. On it stood the highest mountain of cookies Monty had ever seen. With a smile, he pulled a wallet (okay, Jasper’s) out of his pocket.

"We'll take all of them," he said, feeling like Harry Potter on the Hogwarts express.

"All of them?!" the barista asked, in his grumbly voice, completely bewildered. Monty nodded, just as Jasper hung up the phone.

"We almost ready here, Monty?" he grinned, clapping a hand on Monty’s shoulder. The barista eyed Jasper up, and Monty could practically feel his friend shrink. Monty glanced over at him, because really? Yeah, the barista was tall and intimidating, and built kind of like the guys who used to bully them in high school, but Jasper was an adult and didn’t need to be scared by tough-looking baristas.

“Ten dollars,” the barista said, holding the plate out to them. Monty eyed the pile of cookies, which definitely looked worth than more than ten dollars. As if reading his mind, the barista repeated himself. “Ten dollars,”

Monty fished around in Jasper’s wallet and produced the ten dollars. He handed the note to the barista, who laid the plate of cookies in his other hand. Monty felt the barista’s fingertips brush against his during the exchange. It was a brief touch, but Monty felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Upon brushing against his fingers, the barista froze in place. Monty looked up, and looked the barista in the eyes for just a moment. He had seen the barista’s eyes before. He knew they were brown. But looking into them now, brown didn’t seem to cut it. Brown wasn’t enough. They were so dark they were almost black, but rather than being off-putting, they were inviting. They looked liked they held the secrets to the universe. Monty could have looked into those eyes all day.

“Monty,” Jasper said, nudging his friend in the back. “Let’s go,”

And the moment was over. Monty took the plate of cookies and muttered a thank you to the barista, and led Jasper out of the café. As he was stepping through the archway, Monty could swear he heard the barista whisper “Monty”, but he just dismissed it as a trick of his mind.

He left the café with Jasper with two things in mind – he regretted not taking the chance to read the blackboards, and he promised himself that when he returned to the café, he would find out the barista’s name.

-

Just over a week after the trip to Harper’s, Monty persuaded himself that it had been long enough for him to return to Skybox Café. With a bobble hat pulled over his ears, a scarf wrapped around his neck, and his laptop shoved into his backpack, he headed out into the brisk November cold. His mind focused only on the warmth of coffee and cookies. And yeah, maybe that barista too.

The heat hit him like a wall the second he pushed the door into the café open. He unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, and made a beeline for the counter. There were two baristas behind the counter, the blonde girl from Monty’s first visit to the café, and a girl in a pair of dungarees who looked like she could either hug you or slap you. He wanted her to like him. The menu hadn’t changed, but Monty still scanned it, trying to decide between the drink with the most caffeine or with the most sugar. Sticking to his nature, he decided on the caffeine, and relayed his order to the blonde barista.

He took his coffee over to a table in the back corner of the café. The table was covered in scribbles of graffiti, just names and meaningless doodles. Monty pulled out his laptop and placed it just above where the name ‘Wells’ was printed in big block letters.

He was about halfway through a paper when he looked up towards the front of the café, eyes wandering to the signs next to the menu. The signs had been updated to read: ‘ _Days since Miller has broken a mug: seven. This sign may become pointless._ ’ And below that, in red chalk, was a thin smiley-face. Under that, the sign read: ‘ _Days since Raven has ~~offended a customer~~ : told a customer to do inappropriate things to themselves: two_’. Someone (presumably Clarke, whoever that was) had scribbled out the word ‘not’ on the ‘ _Clarke is not permitted to lecture customers on their coffee choices, no matter how ‘pussy’ they may be_ ’ sign and written below it ‘ _I do what I want_ ’.

“Admiring our boards?” a husky voice said beside Monty. He nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw whom the voice belonged to. There, leaning his hip casually against Monty’s table was the gruff-looking, hot barista.

“Uh, yeah,” Monty stuttered, trying desperately to keep eye-contact with the gorgeous man in front of him. “It adds a real personal touch to the place.”

The barista nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Monty could see himself kissing those lips. The second that thought crossed his mind, he tried to stomp it down. Emphasis on tried.

After a too-long moment, the barista spoke again. “You’re not going to buy us out of all our cookies again, are you?”

Monty spluttered. “N-no, no. And those, those weren’t just for me. We were bringing them as like, like a present. Y’know, like, a gift - ”

“I get it,” the barista interrupted him, his dark brown eyes full of amusement. He picked up Monty’s empty plate and started walking back towards the counter.

“You’re not wearing anything today!” Monty called after him. He winced at his talent for being awkward and embarrassing before correcting himself. “I mean, your aprons. You’re usually wearing one of those aprons,”

The barista stopped in his tracks, and turned to face Monty again. “You noticed?”

Monty could feel himself blushing. “I notice a lot of things,”

“I wonder what you’ll notice next,” the barista said, turning to walk away again.

“Are you on there?” Monty said, not feeling guilty at all about stopping this guy from doing his job. “The boards, I mean?”

The barista took one look at Monty, and one look at the boards. “Oh yeah,” he told him. “I’m Miller,”

Biting his lip, blood rushed to his cheeks for what felt like no reason at all. Monty nodded, and Miller (he wasn’t just a barista anymore. He was Miller) walked back to the counter. This time without any further interruption from Monty.

-

He tried. Really, he did. He didn’t want to seem weird, going back to the Skybox Café after only a couple of days. He had a life, for God’s sakes, he didn’t need to look like some guy who spent his entire time in a café. But, he argued with himself, why did he care about what the baristas – no, what Miller – thought about his café habits? People went to cafés everyday. Needing coffee was natural. But, being a broke student, he really didn’t have all that extra cash for a $3 coffee everyday.

But after a couple of days his craving for cookies overpowered any embarrassment he had about returning to the café ‘too soon’. And so, driven by desire for chocolate chips, with only a notebook and a bobble hat, he headed for Skybox Café.

When he stepped into the café, a heat that only came from steamed milk and coffee immediately enveloped him. To his surprise, leaning over the counter was Bellamy. Two baristas stood behind the counter chatting with him. The blonde barista Monty had seen once or twice raised an eyebrow at Bellamy while making his drink. The other – Monty’s heart leapt - Miller, was arranging the cookies, laughing at whatever Bellamy had said.

“Monty!” Bellamy exclaimed when he caught sight of him. Monty gave him a small wave and a smile, and moved to stand behind him in line.

“Hey,” he said, a slight, unreasonable pride at being recognised by the mighty Bellamy Blake swelling in his chest.

“How’s Mechanical Engineering treating you?” Bellamy smiled, like he knew a secret Monty didn’t.

“Haven’t had a mental breakdown in a couple of days, so things have started looking up!”

Bellamy laughed, as did the two baristas. Monty’s eyes wandered to Miller, whose laugh was quiet and consisted mostly of him smiling at the ground. When he saw Monty looking at him, he schooled his features to a neutral expression.

The blonde barista tapped Bellamy’s shoulder. “Americano’s ready, Bell.” Bellamy grabbed the chipped mug from her hands, thanks lost on his lips as he slurped the coffee. That task taken care of, she turned her attention to Monty. “I’m Clarke, by the way. What can I get you?”

Without having to think, Monty ordered the strongest coffee they served. Bellamy waited with him while Clarke prepared it. Just as Monty was about to turn away, coffee in hand, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You forgot something,” Miller said, eyes fixed on the plate of cookies he was holding out to him. Monty felt a grin tugging at his mouth as he took the plate. He had to nudge Bellamy, who was staring at Miller as if he had just told him the earth was round.

They took seats on two tall chairs that wobbled so much Monty nearly spilled his coffee. When they settled, Monty turned his attention to the boards next to the menu. It was different, reading them, now that he could put faces to at least two of the names. He smiled into his coffee as he read the sign:

‘ _Days since Miller has broken a mug: one! You were doing so well!_ ’ Miller, his Miller, was the one prone to breaking mugs. It was only something small, but he warmed at the fact he was learning something else about the mysterious barista.

The sign that read ‘ _Days since Raven has offended a customer:_ ’ had been updated to read five. Monty pointed the sign out to Bellamy, and asked who Raven was.

“I am,” came a voice from a girl at the back of the café. Monty turned around, and saw the barista from one of his earlier visits. At the time, she had worn a pair of dungarees, but she had swapped those now for a purple t-shirt that read ‘ _Zero-G’s the place to be_ ’. She didn’t say anything else as she wiped down tables, but she wore a smirk that Monty guessed was related to what she knew the sign read.

The ‘ _Clarke is permitted to lecture customers on their coffee choices, no matter how ‘pussy’ they may be - I do what I want_ ’ took on a new meaning for Monty, when he matched it up with the smiley blonde behind the counter. He thanked god that he had ordered something with a lot of caffeine and not a ‘pussy’ drink. Whatever that might have been.

One more sign had been added (Monty was seriously wondering where they were getting all these blackboards). ‘ _Just because Octavia doesn’t actually work here it doesn’t mean she can't serve people_ ’ read the main body of the sign, with comments added in small handwriting that Monty couldn’t read.

“Oct- Octavia works here?!” Monty sputtered, nearly dribbling coffee down his chin.

“Didn’t you read the sign?” Bellamy smirked. “She doesn’t work here. Her boyfriend, Lincoln does, and she helps out a bit,”

Monty opened his mouth to reply, and closed it again. He didn’t need to further broadcast his utter confusion. He finished his coffee and cookies in silence, reading his book as he did. He snuck glances out of the corner of his eye at Miller, whose sleeves were rolled up as he took Raven’s job wiping down tables. The curve of the muscles in Miller’s arms offended Monty, because Jesus Christ how was he meant to focus on anything when the world’s most beautiful biceps were on show like that? Miller caught him looking just as he was getting up, and Monty ran out of that café so fast he barely heard the choruses of “Bye, Monty!” from Bellamy, Clarke, Raven and Miller.

-

A few days later began the week just before a fortnight of exams for Monty. He never thought he’d be happy about two weeks of exams, but that meant there was one week of nothing but pure studying. No classes, just studying. Which for Monty, had started to mean Skybox Café.

On Monday, he arrived in Skybox a half hour after it opened. He would have been there earlier, except he had actually tried to study in his own dorm room. But he found, that his dorm room was a) too cold, b) too full of his roommate and c) smelled like sweaty socks. And so he abandoned his dorm, and almost subconsciously, headed for Skybox Café.

While ordering his coffee from Raven, it clicked with him that he had just been in the café the day before. How odd it was that years seemed to pass in the night between Sunday and Monday. Raven reached over the counter and ruffled his hair as she passed him the coffee, which should have felt weird, but just felt sweet instead.

Taking his coffee over to a booth in the corner, he made a mental checklist of what he had to get through that day. And then, he almost cried. The two acts may have been linked.

He did manage to not cry, and got to work.

Halfway through a chapter on something he could swear he had never learned about in class, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He had no idea what time it was, as hours had started meaning nothing to him after only his first coffee. His day was measured in coffees now, and he was on his fifth. He couldn’t feel the effect of it yet, but he would tonight.

The tap on his shoulder was Miller. He held a plate of cookies in his hand, and held them out to Monty. Monty could feel his heart racing, but he pinned that down to the caffeine.

“I think you need a break,” Miller said, sliding into the booth across from Monty. Monty gulped. Wordlessly, he put down the highlighter in his hand and took a cookie from the plate.

After a few moments of silent cookie eating, Monty spoke up. “So is Miller your first name?”

Miller laughed softly. “No, my full name is Nathan Miller, but everybody calls me Miller. Nobody except my dad calls me Nathan,”

“Well, I’m Green. Monty Green, that is. Not like, actually, green,”

“Uh huh,” Miller murmured. He gestured to Monty’s book. “Studying?”

Monty nodded, grief washing over his face. “Exams in a week. I love Mechanical Engineering, but god, I just really hate exams.”

“You’ll get through it. You look like a smart guy,” Miller said. “Are you going to be doing all your studying here?”

Monty blushed. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I – I like the atmosphere here. It’s peaceful, y’know? No hustle and bustle. I can really focus. That is, when someone doesn’t interrupt me,” He raised an eyebrow at Miller. Miller dropped his gaze to the cookies, smiling slightly.

“Well, you looked like you needed a break. I swear I could hear the gears in your head working from behind the counter,” he said, twirling a stray pen of Monty’s between his fingers.

“Well, thanks, I guess,”

“No problem,” Miller started to get up then. “I’ll let you get back to it. See you,”

“See you,” Monty said, eyes following Miller all his way to the door in the back of the café.

-

On Tuesday, he lasted a solid half hour in his dorm trying to study, before he admitted to himself that the atmosphere in his dorm room was just nothing like the atmosphere in Skybox.

“Hey Monty!” Clarke greeted him as he stepped through the archway into the café. “I bet I can guess what you’re ordering,”

Monty scratched the back of his neck, feigning embarrassment. “Am I that predictable?”

Clarke waved the notion away with her hand. “Nonsense! It’s easy to make, and there’s no bullshit to it. No ‘decaf non-fat caramel macchiato’ or ‘half-caff soy vanilla latte with sugar-free syrup’ crap. Sugar free syrup? I mean, honestly,”

Clarke’s rant about coffee continued as she prepared Monty’s order. Monty smirked as he began to see the person behind the sign. He could definitely see the girl in front of him lecturing a customer about their order. He traded her the money for the coffee, after which she mussed up his hair.

He took a seat at the same booth he was at the previous day, and before he could have another pre-study panic attack, he pulled his books from his backpack and got to studying.

The second he felt a feather-light brush of fingers against his back, he knew who it was. Miller stood in front of him, plate of cookies in hand. Monty moved his books around on the table, making room for the cookies.

“I haven’t even been working all that long!” Monty teased, after digging into the first cookie. Miller’s eyes widened.

“Dude, you’ve been here for five hours. Clarke said you got here just after her shift started. Her shift is almost over, and mine’s just started. Take a goddamn break,”

Monty ducked his head, and took another cookie. Miller did the same, and the two of them sat in silence. Monty fixed his eyes on a table to his left, too nervous to actually look at Miller. The day before, talking had been somewhat easy, but now he was scrabbling around in his brain for even the most boring conversation topic. He chanced a look at Miller. His deep brown eyes seemed focused on something on Monty’s page, allowing Monty to drink in the sight of him. The lighting in the back of the café was darker than the rest, so shadows were cast against his face. His lips were pursed slightly – and what soft-looking lips they were. Before Miller could catch him looking, he looked away again, taking another cookie as he did.

After about three more cookies, Miller cleared his throat. “So, tell me about yourself, Monty,”

“What do you want to know?” Monty looked up at him, raising his eyebrows. Miller shrugged.

“I don’t know. Basic stuff. Favourite color, favourite movie, best friend. Just your average stuff,”

“Um, okay,” Monty thought for a moment. “Favourite color – green, of course. My favourite movie is definitely Pacific Rim, and my best friend is Jasper. He’s the guy that came in with me the day I bought all your cookies,”

Miller laughed. “I remember him. Kinda reminds me of Sid, from Ice Age?”

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that,” Monty grinned. “Alright, now you,”

“Me?” Miller looked taken aback.

“Yeah, you. Favourite color, favourite movie, best friend,”

Miller ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, favourite color is blue. Movie’s a toss-up between Fight Club and the Breakfast Club,”

“So basically any movie with the word ‘club’ in it?”

“Be serious, man. Best friend is definitely Bellamy.” Miller said the last sentence with a finality Monty admired. “Alright, my turn. Tell me the craziest thing you and Jasper have ever done, because I bet me and Bellamy can win,”

About ten minutes later, Miller was gripping his sides in laughter. “You did what?!”

“Well, okay, Jasper’s high as a kite, Octavia’s drunk as she’s ever been, I’ve got a toilet seat around my neck- ” Monty continued the story of the time Jasper and him got arrested.

“Okay, okay, you win, never mind, I don’t need to tell you about when Bell tied a guy to a tree as a prank.” Miller wiped tears of laughter from his eye. “It’s just, you seem so studious! I never would have guessed you were - ”

“A stoner?” Monty quipped. Miller opened his mouth to protest, but instead fell silent. “Man, in high school I grew weed in my window box outside my room, and still managed to get straight A’s,”

“You are a mystery, Monty Green,” Miller chuckled. He checked the clock. “I should probably let you get back to studying. See you,”

“See you,” Monty said, definitely not staring at Miller’s ass as he walked away. He also wasn’t watching how his shoulder blades moved as he walked. No, no he definitely wasn’t.

-

It carried on like this for the rest of the week. Each day, Miller stayed a little longer talking to him, and each day Monty let his eyes linger a little longer on Miller’s face while he wasn’t looking. On Friday, he was a little sorry he hadn’t been caught.

During his whole two weeks of exams (which were, in short, hell), all he could think about was the sweet smile Miller wore as he wished him good luck. Or the way Miller’s callused hand felt as they held his down so he could write his number on the back of Monty’s hand (“You know, for when you go insane during exams and need a break,”). Or the broadness of Miller’s shoulders. Or the way he leaned across the table to listen intently whenever Monty was talking.

In the darkness of his dorm room, the night before his final exam, Monty looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He had an undeniable and hopeless crush on Nathan Miller. And he couldn’t wait to see him again. A little voice in his head reminded him that he could have gone to the café at some point during his exams, but it didn’t feel right. Going to Skybox Café only for an hour didn’t do the place justice. Not any more.

When his last exam finished at exactly 12:43, he bolted out of the exam hall like the devil was on his heels. He had dressed lightly for his exam, and the bitter December wind was cutting through his clothes. He tugged his cardigan closer around his body, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. Instead of dwelling on the frost-bite that was definitely taking his nose, he focused his thoughts on the warmth of the café. He just had to get there.

Pushing open the red door into Skybox Café was a welcome reprieve from the cold. He blew warm air on his fingertips as he neared the archway into the café. For a moment – he thought he was going crazy. Was that Christmas music?

Sure enough, when he stepped into the café, there was Raven and Clarke, dancing around the tables, while somebody over a radio crooned Baby It’s Cold Outside. Clarke had a sweeping brush in her hand, which she was using like a microphone stand. Raven was miming like she was waltzing with someone. Both of them sang along to what Jasper had once dubbed, ‘The Least Romantic Christmas Song of All Time’.

Sitting on the counter top, with his legs dangling just above the floorboards, was Bellamy. He was watching the two girls with what could only be described as ‘heart-eyes’, a soft smile spread on his face. The expression changed from gentle and loving to fear and panic as someone behind the counter shoved him off and onto his feet.

Monty’s heart leapt in his chest when he realized it was Miller. He was watching his coworkers and best friend with amusement, one side of his mouth tilted up in a smile. Monty was happy to admire him from the archway, until Miller looked over and caught his eye. Monty gave him a slight wave, and made his way over to the counter. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and just leaned against the counter. He pretended to watch Clarke and Raven rope Bellamy into dancing with them, while secretly sneaking looks over at Miller. It was funny how once you were attracted to someone, one look was never enough.

“So can I ask about the Christmas music?” Monty finally asked, speaking quietly enough so only Miller could hear him.

“Clarke does this every year. She loves Christmas, like, goes crazy for it. We all entertain her. Even though it means we have to listen to Christmas music for the entire month of December,”

“Clarke seems like my kind of girl,” Monty smirked.

“You say that now, but that’s before she’s making you wear a Santa hat two weeks before Christmas, and sneaks into your apartment in the middle of the night to hang up Christmas decorations.” Miller replied.

“She didn’t?!”

“I never got proof on the apartment thing, but when I went to bed that night, there was considerably less tinsel in my kitchen than when I woke up.”

Monty let out a short laugh. “Okay, on another note – I need coffee. Do you sell it by the gallon? Is there any size larger than a large?”

“Afraid not. You go sit down. I’ll bring it to you. You can pay on your way out?”

Monty went to take a seat in the booth his subconscious – against his will – had nicknamed His and Miller’s booth. He pulled his phone out of his pocket just as Baby It’s Cold Outside drew to a finish. An equally cheesy song, full of bells and piano took its place, but Clarke and Raven seemed danced out. Clarke collapsed into the seat across from Monty.

“You’re back!” she grinned, leaning over the table to squeeze his shoulder. “We missed you!”

“I missed you guys too. I missed this place. Two weeks without cookies can do bad things to a guy’s mental state,” Monty joked.

“No, Monty, I don’t think you understand. We had a sign put up and everything,”

Monty furrowed his eyebrows, and looked over at the signs. There, where it had always been, was Miller’s sign. ‘ _Days since Miller has broken a mug: nine. Unless he’s lying??!!_ ’ In additional purple chalk was ‘Lay off it Reyes’. Monty let a small smile of pride tug at his lips. A new board had replaced Raven’s sign: ‘ _Consecutive days that Bellamy has shown up: fifteen. Does he ever leave?_ ’ Next to the sign was a pinned picture of Bellamy, looking into the camera with complete confusion. And there, just as Clarke had said, was a sign dedicated just to Monty. ‘ _Days until Monty is back – zero!!_ ’

“Whose idea was it?” Monty asked, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

“Miller, of course!” Clarke said, slightly taken aback. “Who else?”

Monty must have been the picture of shock, because Clarke laughed at his open-mouthed stare. “What? Are you telling me there’s nothing going on there? Not at all?”

Monty spluttered. “Wha- no, not at – Why? It’s not like he’s ever said anything to you, has he?”

Clarke patted Monty on the head. “Oh Monty, you’re so clueless. I’ll talk to you later,”

Just as she left, Miller arrived with a tray with two coffees and a plate of cookies. Before Monty could protest about never ordering cookies, Miller dropped the plate on the table and slid into the place recently vacated by Clarke. Monty tried to stare him down, get him to bring them back to the counter, but they both knew he didn’t have the self-restraint. After only ten seconds, he reached out and grabbed one. He studied Miller as he ate, trying to pick up on any changes that may have happened in the last week. He hadn’t stopped being unfairly attractive, unfortunately. There was softness to his features that maybe hadn’t been there when he first met him. His mouth, instead of being in a permanent scowl, was turned up slightly into a smile, gentle and kind. His eyes, which had once been stormy and terrifying, looked over at Monty with an unidentifiable benevolence.

“So, I have a sign,” Monty said, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

Miller didn’t meet his eyes. “Uh, yeah,”

“Clarke said it was your idea,”

“Clarke needs to learn to stay out of business that isn’t hers,” Miller muttered.

“Is it true?” Monty cursed himself for the hope in those three words. He wasn’t talking to Jasper here. He was talking to a guy, a really, really attractive guy, about that possibility that he though about him enough to write about him on a blackboard. Which probably meant more to Monty than it did to Miller. But whatever.

Miller rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, yeah it was,”

Monty raised an eyebrow, not about to take that as his answer. He was ready to commit to another full stare down, but Miller broke before there was a chance.

“Everyone was asking when you’d be back, right? And I kept saying, oh, he has exams, I don’t know if he’ll be around. But then it became like, a countdown until your exams were finished. Because, like, once your exams were over, you’d be back. That was the game. And that was fine and all, until we kept losing track. So we made a sign. I made a sign. For you,”

“For me,” Monty didn’t even attempt to hide the grin that took over his face. It was insignificant, what Miller had done. In terms of romantic gestures, it probably wasn’t even on the scale. But it still made him smile like a kid of Christmas.

“For you,” Miller conceded. “It’s good to have you back though, Monty. This place isn’t that busy, and it’s nice to have your company,”

Monty was about to respond when Miller’s phone buzzed. At first, Miller ignored it, but it buzzed again. And again. And again. Miller mouthed an apology, and quickly checked his phone. He had the messages open for about five seconds, before he closed it and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Instead of asking what it had been about, Monty just took another cookie. Miller did the same, and the two of them entered into yet another stare down. Or that was what Monty intended when he started looking into Miller’s eyes, but the longer he looked, the longer he seemed to forget why he had. There was something mesmerizing about Miller’s eyes.

Turned out, he hadn’t needed to ask. “Sorry, that was Raven. She and Bellamy have a bet going…”

“What’s the bet?” Monty asked, mouth full of cookie crumbs. Miller’s eyes widened, deer-caught-in-the-headlights style.

“Oh – uh, it’s nothing. I mean, it’s not nothing but it’s nothing important,” Miller stumbled over his words. The way he rushed out his words reminded Monty of the time Jasper came home after nearly being stabbed, and trying to explain to his parents that he just fell on a fence. Basically, Miller looked like he was lying.

He quickly debated in his mind whether to push the matter, but decided against it when he saw how flustered Miller was. Although he had to admit, it was pretty cute.

He let Miller steer the conversation away, asking Monty about his life over the last two weeks. Monty revealed that halfway through studying for one of his exams he broke down and marathoned the Star Wars movies.

“It’s not plausible!” Monty protested, trying his hardest not to look like he was getting so worked up over the science involved in lightsabers.

"It doesn't matter if it's plausible. It's sci-fi, Monty. You gotta take it with a grain of salt," Miller said, a soft smile on his face. Monty was too busy being charmed by the smile to be angry about how serious Miller wasn’t being. "Besides, if you want to talk not plausible, how about how for eleven years, the social services never found out that Harry Potter lived under the stairs?"

Monty didn’t reply, just nodded, taking the fact into consideration. In the midst of the silence, there was a call from the counter.

“Hey, Miller!” Clarke was sitting on the countertop, legs swinging underneath her. Raven and Bellamy stood beside her, smiling wickedly – the kind of smiles that made Monty fear for his safety. “We gotta know. The bet needs to end!”

Monty watched as Miller’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, his cheeks nearly going on fire. He spluttered, at first. Monty leaned back in his seat, observing the scene. His eyes flicked back and forth from Miller to the Spanish Inquisition in the form of Clarke, Bellamy and Raven. The three conspirators were enjoying Miller’s discomfort, and made no attempt to hide it. Desperately, Miller tried to communicate something to the three of them with his eyes, he either wasn’t being clear, or they were choosing to ignore it.

Eventually, Miller gave up. “Monty, can I talk to you outside, please?”

Somehow, despite the several degrees below sane it was outdoors, Monty nodded, and allowed Miller to lead him from the comfort of their seats in the cozy café and outside.

They stood, teeth chattering, outside the red door of the café. Monty held his thin cardigan as close around him as he could, but it didn’t shield him from the cold. Goosebumps prickled Miller’s crossed arms. Monty ran though all the possible things he could say that would lead to an explanation about what one earth Clarke had been on about inside, but he didn’t know how to say them without having his thundering heart make him stumble over his words. Instead, he just looked up at Miller, and waited for an answer.

Miller’s eyes were fixed on the ground. He let out a shaky breath (from nerves or the cold, Monty wasn’t sure). “This um… this is uh… Okay, um, the, uh, bet that Bell and Raven have, it’s uh, okay,” He lifted his eyes to look at Monty again, before losing eye contact again and glancing out onto the road. “They, made a bet, a stupid bet, really, about whether I would ask you out, after your exams. I never agreed to being involved in this bet, but uh, they made it, and yeah. That was it,”

Monty was shell-shocked. He felt a bubble of hope welling up inside him. People had thought that Nathan Miller, for some reason, had an interest in him. It felt like back in middle school, when Octavia leaned over to him and whispered in his ear that she thought Harper liked him. She had been wrong, of course, and a year later Monty had come out of the closet, but the excitement was the same.

“Why would they think to make that bet in the first place?” Monty asked, barely able to look at Miller when he said it. He could feel the two of them dancing around the subject, and part of him really just wanted to lean over and kiss Miller, but he restrained himself.

Miller let out a long sigh. “You have no idea?”

Monty, afraid of being wrong about what his gut and the look in Miller’s eye was telling him, nodded. He opened his mouth, beginning the word ‘So’, but was cut off Miller grabbing his face in his hands and pulling his lips to his own. Monty was taken by surprise, and kind of went limp. All he was aware of was the warmth of Miller's lips on his, and the burning feeling where his hands were on his jaw. It felt so right, at that moment, to kiss Miller in the freezing December weather. Or was Miller kissing him?

Too soon, Miller pulled away. "That's why," he said, only taking one hand away from Monty's face. He brushed Monty's cheek with his thumb. Monty looked up at him shock. The thought of Nathan Miller having enough interest in him to kiss him – it was something out of a daydream.

“I’ve kind of been seriously into you since day one,” Miller admitted, a laugh finishing his sentence. He finished it without stuttering, without looking away from Monty’s eyes. All Monty could do was stare at him in wonder. “I understand, if you don’t feel the same way…”

"Shut up," Monty smiled, and grabbed Miller's shirt and pulled him close, planting his lips on his. Miller froze in surprise for a second, but quickly melted into the kiss. He put his hand on the back of Monty's neck, and Monty never knew you could smile while kissing someone like that. Butterflies rose up in his stomach, and he could hear his blood roaring in his ears. Kissing Nathan Miller was nothing like anything else Monty had ever done.

The freezing weather and the snow-dusted streets fell away, just the two of them and the universe, kissing until the stars told them to stop.


End file.
